


the sweetest softest hands

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Dom/sub Undertones, Hair-pulling, Kneeling, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, er uhm there's really no sex though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Theon’s shoulders relax a fraction, and Robb hums under his breath as he keeps on combing through the soft, dark hair caught in between his fingers. He was right, Theon washed it first. He doesn’t do much more for a while, not until Theon lets out a deep breath against his thigh and his shoulders lose tension for good.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sweetest softest hands

**Author's Note:**

> written for an asoiaf kink meme prompt - _sometimes Robb sends Greywind to stand guard outside his tent; inside Theon sits at Robb's feet while Robb looks over his papers and maps, and he strokes Theon's hair_. The title is from Suzanne Vega, nothing belongs to me (as usual..) and uhm it's exactly what the prompt says, I only put mature as a rating because it's a d/s-ish situation but that's the entirety of the sexual component there is to it.

Theon walks into the tent just after Grey Wind leaves it - not that he went far. Robb can see his direwolf sitting in front of the entrance, ready to warn them in case someone else needs to get inside, but Robb is positive that this evening should be quiet. He sighs as he looks at the maps covering his table, then turns to look up at Theon when he feels his presence at Robb’s left side. He must have changed and washed his hair before he came here, Robb reasons - it looks cleaner than it did during the council this morning, and Robb is sure that he wasn’t wearing the gray wool breeches and shirt that he’s donning right now. It was something a lot less comfortable - makes sense that he wouldn’t keep on wearing it now.

“How long do we have?” Theon asks, his voice barely audible.

Sunset wasn’t long ago, so it’s still reasonably early. And Robb left orders not to be disturbed.

“A few hours at least, if you want.”

Theon doesn’t answer outright. He gives Robb a nod a moment later - Robb can see that his shoulders are tense, but it’s always like this. They won’t stay tense for long.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Robb says, knowing that it might take a while or it might not.

Today, it doesn’t. Theon kneels at his side a moment later, his knees hitting the ground with a soft noise and his forehead touches Robb’s thigh soon after - just that. Robb glances down at him - he’s keeping his hands behind his back, and his shoulders are still tense. Robb’s lips curl up into a small smile as he reaches down with his left hand and starts running his fingers through the strands of hair currently caught between Theon’s forehead and his own leg, moving them back carefully so that it doesn’t get uncomfortable. Theon’s shoulders relax a fraction, and Robb hums under his breath as he keeps on combing through the soft, dark hair caught in between his fingers. He was right, Theon washed it first. He doesn’t do much more for a while, not until Theon lets out a deep breath against his thigh and his shoulders lose tension for good - at that point he smiles to himself as he moves away the map of the Riverlands he has in front of him to reveal the one of the bay in front of King’s Landing that was underneath it. At the same time, he moves his hand downwards, his nails scraping just over Theon’s scalp, rubbing circles in it and catching strands of hair in between. He leaves it mussed when he moves on to the left side of Theon’s head, his fingers threading through the hair on his temples, from the root to the tip and then back to the root again. When he looks down at him a short while later, he sees that his hands aren’t clasped at his back anymore - right now they’re merely hanging at his sides, not moving.

Robb smiles to himself and keeps on carding his fingers through the hair falling over the back of Theon’s neck, not bothering to move the strands back the way he found them - he leaves handfuls of hair ruffled in places, liking the way it almost yields under his ministrations, even more so now that it’s all soft and clean and shaping itself as his fingers thread through it slowly. He keeps on doing the same thing for a while - he doesn’t know how long, really, he tends to lose track of time when they do this. Which has happened more often than not lately, but it’s not as if he has a problem with it.

Then he realizes that it’s not just Theon’s head leaning on him - he’s kind of falling on Robb’s side, as if Robb is the only thing holding him up. He had his eyes open before, but now they’re closed and he looks as if he might fall over any moment - he’s not asleep though, Robb would know the difference. He runs his thumb over the part he can see of Theon’s forehead once before speaking.

“Hey. Look at me?”

A moment later Theon seems to stir slightly and does it - his eyes are dark and almost all pupil as he looks up at Robb almost adoringly, and Robb swallows for a moment - it’s not the first time it happens but it always throws him off for a moment.

“You know, you don’t have to stay on your knees if it hurts.” Robb supposes that it would, a bit at least - the ground is hard and he’s been kneeling on it for a long while. “Actually, do you want to move? You’d probably be more comfortable if you didn’t stay just on the side.”

Theon blinks a couple of times before giving him a tiny nod, and Robb puts a hand on his shoulder just to make sure that he stays upright - probably a good call, since Theon seems to lose equilibrium for a moment when Robb moves his leg to the side. Theon breathes in before moving again so that he’s in front of Robb’s chair now, under the table. Robb sits a bit forward so that his thighs aren’t touching the chair at all and then moves his leg back where it was so that Theon is in between both of his legs, and then Theon isn’t kneeling anymore but rather sitting down favoring his left thigh, his feet laying on the ground horizontally rather than behind him. He sighs almost in relief as he lays his head on Robb’s inner thigh again, almost nestling against it.

Robb reaches down with his left hand, carding through Theon’s messy strands, his nails scraping at the roots here and there, and he smiles to himself when Theon goes completely lax against him again. Not that it matters now - even if he couldn’t hold himself up anymore, he’s in the perfect position for Robb to catch him should it happen.

\--

It’s nicer, like this. Not that it wasn’t good before, but he thinks he likes this position better - not so much because he can’t feel the dull pain in his knees anymore, it was easy enough not to pay attention, but because like this… it’s _more_. He can lean his cheek against Robb’s inner thigh instead, which is a lot more comfortable than only having his forehead against the outer side. He can feel Robb’s foot pressing against his calves on the other side and if only Robb moved his legs closer together he could hold him up in between.

Maybe he should feel ashamed that he likes being in between Robb’s legs as much as he does, while Robb’s fingers slowly fix the mess that his hair has become since they began, but that’s usually something that matters just at the beginning. By now he’s far past that point - he’s reached that blissful place where the only things that matter are Robb’s hands on him and Robb’s leg against his cheek and everything feels _good_ and soft and safe, and he’s not planning on leaving it anytime soon if he can help it. He stays still as Robb’s hands work through his strands, fixing them instead of messing them up, relishing the feeling and trying not to moan out loud - not that anyone would hear, but better not risking it.

Then again, the way they are now, someone _could_ in fact come in - the table is long enough that no one would see him if they didn’t kneel especially to look under it. The thought almost makes him dizzy (would Robb say yes if he asked to let him stay like this with other people in the tent? He shouldn’t even consider it, and yet he might be) and he lets himself fall against Robb’s leg a bit more. It’s fine though, since Robb has a hand behind his neck holding him up gently, and so he stays put, shivering in pleasure when Robb pushes his head a bit forward, closer to his groin than to his knee, his thumb caressing his jaw after he’s satisfied with the new position.

Theon sighs in satisfaction as Robb’s other hand reaches down as well, his fingers messing up his hair all over again as he cradles his head oh-so-gently, and at that he knows that he’s not even making an effort to hold himself up, not when he feels boneless and almost weightless under Robb’s hands, but he doesn’t have to put any effort in it. It’s fine. He knows that Robb isn’t going to let him fall.

End.


End file.
